‘You should worry,’ Arnot thought. Early in the bout Caleb’s left handed style caused Arnot some initial problems but he now had the measure of his opponent. Arnot spun his sword and waited. Lemont retreated and Arnot flashed in but pulled back as Caleb retreated at a near run. Arnot circled, following, then moved in sending blow after blow Caleb’s way. The young man from Palmerrio was indeed skillful and blocked over a dozen blows before Arnot somehow slipped behind him and cracked him in the back of the head with another ringing strike. The crowd cheered, sensing that another Champion from beyond Noble Island was about to be crowned. The score was even now six to six, but even from the stands it was plain to see that Caleb was seriously dazed and obviously weakened as he stood on shaky legs.
Tar Lemont finally backed away, but the crowd was right, Caleb was in no condition to face Arnot and took another quick hit to the left shoulder. This was a softer, glancing blow, and Caleb backed away from it quickly, shaking his head in an attempt to clear it. Arnot retreated for a moment but then suddenly dove in; he sensed victory but Caleb managed to block his initial assault and then unexpectedly shifted his style to a right handed attack. The move surprised Arnot and before he readjusted Caleb dealt him a glancing blow off of his left elbow.
Arnot frowned as Tar Lemont moved in and signaled the score. Caleb spun his wooden weapon with growing confidence and moved quickly after Arnot, sticking with his right handed style. Arnot was ready however, and after deflecting Caleb’s opening attack he spun and struck his opponent solidly in the ribs. Arnot quickly followed it up with a snap kick to the chin. Caleb went down hard, bleeding slightly from the mouth and when he did not rise, Tar Lemont moved in to inspect the boy. Caleb was alive, but unconscious. Lemont immediately waved off the match and declared Arnot the victor. Caleb was just coming around as the Tar held up Arnot’s hand as Long Sword Champion. For nearly five full minutes, talking was all but impossible. The crowd was in an utter frenzy, roaring its approval and chanting Arnot’s name as he became the second champion from beyond Noble.
†
“You’re in a great position,” Vio told Arnot excitedly once they were back in their tent. “All you have to do is defeat Elin with katas and the overall Championship is yours,” the Tarina added. She was completely confident that Arnot would win the year end run that would close the games so that was not the issue.
“Unless he twists an ankle or something,” Avigail piped up. She was happy for her brother, but honestly she couldn’t see what all the fuss was about. So you won a few competitions; what was the big deal?
Vio turned on Avigail as if she’d been slapped and gave the girl a hard look.
‘Apparently it was a big deal,’ Avi thought, though why it should be so was beyond her. She could barely keep her mind on the events…even when she was competing. Every fiber in her body was screaming at her to make the attempt to cross over to Galen’s world. She knew Arnot was having the dreams too, and that his were also getting stronger, yet he still insisted on finishing the pointless Competitions. She didn’t get it, but if it made him happy, she could wait a few days…maybe.
“Don’t even say such things,” Vio hissed at Avigail. Elin had won the staff competition with Arnot placing third but now that Arnot was the Champion of the long sword, the two contestants were dead even. Everything now depended on the katas, since Elin was not an overly strong runner. Vio was about to say as much when suddenly the tent flap was pulled back and the High King and Queen stepped into the interior. Vio turned and caught sight of Gwaynn and for the first time in as long as she could remember, she felt nothing. No pain. No longing. The lack of feeling surprised her and she waited stunned as Samantha walked over to her and gave her a quick hug.
“You look well Tarina Valencia,” Samantha said with a hint of envy, and it was true. The near constant training on Noble had kept Vio slim and youthful looking and though Samantha was far from fat, she had a much more rounded look now that her body had matured fully, and there were signs of age appearing in her face.
Vio smiled. “As do you my Queen,” she answered.
Samantha scowled. “Samantha please…I’ve had enough fawning and formal rhetoric these past weeks to last me until I die,” the Queen commented with a smile of her own.
Vio nodded and for the first time did not wish an end to the woman before her and with surprise even realized that she liked Samantha and always had, even when she was daydreaming of her death.
“It’s been too long,” the Queen told Vio and moved back a few steps.
“It has,” Gwaynn agreed and moved forward and held out a hand. Vio hesitated, waiting for the debilitating feelings to wash over her, but again nothing came. Vio slowly reached out and took the hand she had once so longed for. It felt warm, large and a bit slick. No tingle reverberated, and then finally, Vio did feel something…relief.
“I’ve missed you,” the Solitary Tarina replied then stepped up and gave the High King a long hug much to the discomfort of Arnot. It seemed odd to him that his mother and father would be such close friends with the mysterious and alluring Tarina. When Vio finally pulled away she smiled broadly, happy beyond all measure, for finally she realized she was free…free of Gwaynn, and free of the torment that had plagued her for most of her life. The two stared deeply at one another for a long moment, then Gwaynn smiled, happy for his old friend, but still a little sad that one of his candles had finally been snuffed out.
“You two have done well,” Gwaynn commented as he slowly turned away from Vio, the pride evident in his voice. The monopoly of the Temple Islands would soon be broken just as Tar Nev always envisioned. Gwaynn was happy and a wave of awe for his old Master washed over him. Even though he’d trained with the twins relatively since birth, he was still surprised that they would be the ones to usher in the new era. He knew all about the rigorous training on Noble and did not delude himself that he was the equal to the Tars on the Island when it came to teaching. That Arnot and Avigail were excelling was more a testament to their own drive than to his powers of instruction. Avigail moved forward to give her father a hug, while Arnot went to his mother.
Samantha shared Gwaynn’s pride in the twins, but it was tempered. She would have been no less proud if the twins skipped Noble all together and decided to stay on Lato…or Light. But she knew Arnot; he would never consider such a path. He was all boy…and he was all for Noble. She was happy for him; his childhood dream was nearly realized.
“So just the katas and the run remaining,” Gwaynn added shaking his son’s hand. The boy had grown uncomfortable hugging his father a few years back and apparently was not yet over the feeling. Gwaynn didn’t mind. He was not so old that he couldn’t remember his own youth. He could stand a little male aloofness just so long as Avigail was still free with her affections.”
“Arnot will win the run,” Vio and Avigail said in unison and smiled at one another.
“He pushes me harder than you ever did,” Vio continued looking at Gwaynn with a smile.
“You were younger then,” Gwaynn replied coming to his own defense. “It must be age slowing you down.”
“Ah…” Vio exclaimed in mock indignity, and made a half-hearted swipe at Gwaynn, who dodged it easily only to be slapped on the arm by his wife.
“You be nice,” Samantha ordered. “Look at her…she’s beautiful and in better shape than either of us I’d wager.”
Gwaynn tried to rebel, but in the end he could only agree. Vio was indeed lovely. She was one of the rare women who actually blossomed with age. She looked better at thirty-two than Gwaynn could ever remember her looking. He could easily understand why his son worshipped her so.
“We only have to worry about the katas,” Vio added, very aware of the scrutiny she was getting from the High King and very thankful that it had little effect.
“I’ve seen her spar,” Arnot said. “I can beat her,” he announced with an easy confidence.
“Don’t underestimate Elin,” Gwaynn chided. “
Master Kostek claims she’s the best to come along since Vio here. Says she’s very fast…very cunning.”
Arnot smiled. ‘Good!’ he thought, wanting a challenge, wanting to show all on Noble Island just how good he truly was. He was going to give the kata championships his all…no mercy, no quarter. His goal was to dominate.
“Arnot will be just fine,” Vio finally added, and when Gwaynn looked to Avigail she only smiled and nodded in agreement.
“He’ll beat her,” she agreed easily, truly believing it…and then they would be off to the King’s Island…and then Elsewhere. Avigail frowned at the thought of leaving her mother and father behind, but she would leave a note and was sure they would understand…Galen was calling her, she had to go!
†
“ARNOT! ARNOT! ARNOT!” The crowd yelled as the prince lashed out with a left; the blow was blocked but Arnot smoothly spun and launched a quick kick that connected solidly with Kiho’s chest, sending the eighth year student from the Mele quarter reeling.
Tar Mesha threw up her hand signaling the point and the victory that advanced Arnot into the semi-finals. The arena exploded with cheers. Arnot was a crowd favorite; his name on nearly everyone’s tongue and his 10-2 victory over Kiho did little to diminish his quickly growing reputation. Arnot wanted nothing more than to dominate the kata competitions and after five rounds he was well on his way. Not only had he defeated all comers from the Island of Noble, but was doing so in impressive fashion. Thus far his opponents had only managed to score six points against him, while Arnot had run off fifty. Never before had a competitor advanced through the brackets in such an overwhelming fashion, not even the young Tar Nev dominated his opponents to such a degree. The crowd rallied around Arnot just as crowds throughout history rallied around the victors.
In fact, Arnot would have commanded the hearts of nearly everyone except that his sister, Avigail had also fought her way to the semi-finals, though in a much more pedestrian fashion.
Avigail was the first to greet her brother at the large swinging doors which led from the arena floor.
“Two points! You’re slipping,” she said with a smile.
Arnot returned her grin. “He was good…very fast,” Arnot answered and it was true. Kiho was a small, agile fighter, and was one of the favorites to win it all, along with Elin, who Avigail would be facing in the next round. Arnot would be facing a surprise sixth year from Clio quarter, a young man named Thatcher.
Avigail looped her arm around her brother’s and together they moved through the bowels of the stadium, acknowledging the greetings of the workers below.
“This way, this way,” Master Danton, Chamberlain of the stadium said, coaxing them along with a smile. He was quickly becoming an enormous fan of the twins, but tried very hard to keep his leanings secret. As Chamberlain he needed to keep a neutral appearance at all times. He led them to a surprisingly comfortable room directly beneath the north stands. As they reclined they could still hear Arnot’s name being chanted from above, though the noise was greatly muffled.
“We’ve peach juice as you’ve requested, along with other refreshments,” Danton said, fawning just a little. “I’ll return a half an hour before your next match M’lady,” he said addressing Avigail, then he bowed and backed out of the room.
“You’ll need to keep Elin at bay,” Arnot said when they were alone. “She likes to get in close. Her reflexes are fantastic.”
Avigail nodded. By now she knew all of Elin’s tendencies from closely studying her early bouts, but Avi was finding it harder and harder to dredge up the capacity to care about the outcome of the games. Oh, she found it gratifying to win, and to hear the crowd chant her name. Plus it pleased her greatly to see the pride on her parent’s faces, but for the most part she was ambivalent. To her, the Competitions were just filling time before she could actually fulfill her chosen destiny. If she could convince Arnot to leave for the King’s Island directly, she would have gone happily and spent the remainder of her life with no regrets. The Competitions meant little to her and it was only her superior skill and training that allowed her to advance so far.
“And what of Thatcher?” she asked.
Arnot shrugged. “He won’t be a problem,” he answered sampling a few grapes from the table and drinking a small glass of juice, before dropping all the way down on the divan and slipping his hands behind his head. It was only ten in the morning but he’d been up since five, mostly from nervous excitement. Today was the very day he’d waited for his entire life; but it’d always been a far off fantasy, just a dream. Ever since he was a very small boy, he’d fantasized about fighting his way to the kata finals, but now that the day had finally arrived… all he felt was tired.
Arnot closed his eyes. Avigail’s next bout was not for another hour and he was not to fight for another two. He wasn’t aware that he’d slept until Master Danton’s return and when he opened his eyes he was surprised by the presence of Vio, giving last minute instructions to his sister. He sat up and everyone looked over at him.
“Welcome back,” Vio said with a smile. “You need to relax a bit…you’re too tense,” she told him sarcastically. “Remember to go out there and just have fun.”
Arnot frowned, still only half awake. “Wha…”
“She’s teasing,” Avigail snapped, revealing her own nervousness.
“It’s time M’lady,” Danton said and Avigail nodded.
Arnot stood and came immediately awake. “Remember…keep your distance,” he instructed and Avigail scowled at him.
“Yeah, we covered that while you slept,” she replied and followed Danton out of the room and back toward the arena.
“Avi!” Arnot yelled and hurried to follow her out. “Avi!” He yelled again and at first she didn’t slow, but finally she stopped and turned as he jogged up next to her.
“Good luck,” Arnot added with a sheepish smile. Avigail nodded but was too lost in her thoughts to return the smile and after another moment turned and hurried off after Master Danton.
“Come,” Vio said and reached out and took Arnot’s hand. He flinched a little at her touch, but then smiled. Her hand was warm and much smaller than he’d ever imagined. “We’ll be watching from the High King’s box.”
Arnot rolled his eyes, but allowed her to lead him up out of the lower levels and into the sunlight of the late morning, very conscious of the feel of her hand in his.
†
Elin moved in close enough to actually force Avigail back with a shoulder before dropping down and scoring a painful blow to her left thigh. There were equal amounts of cheers and groans coming from the frenzied crowd, but Avigail heard nothing as she backed away, taking a moment to massage her thigh.
‘I’ll have a fair bruise from that one,’ she thought.
Tar Mesha raised her hand and stepped between the two combatants. Avigail retreated, cursing softly to herself and trying mightily to resist searching the stands for Arnot. Elin was good…very good, but knowing you have to keep her at arm’s length was not the same as actually accomplishing the feat. The girl was big, fast and proficient with her weapons, still Avigail had not given up all hope of victory. Currently she was down seven hits to four; however, Elin was on a roll, scoring the last three points of the match.
Tar Mesha glided from between the two combatants and Elin immediately began to advance. Avigail circled, always retreating before the other girl, every now and then she would lash out to slow her advance. Elin smiled, dodging or blocking all of the threats thrown her way. She could sense victory now that she had the measure of the princess, who was very good; there was no doubting that, but still Elin felt strongly that the Competitions should remain an exclusive honor for the rightful students of Noble. And perhaps, once she’d defeated the princess and her arrogant brother, people would realize the futility of allowing outsiders to enter the games. If the High King’s own children could not win, then what chance did the son or daughter of a peasant have? Of course Elin was completely i
gnoring the fact that the twins were now Champions in two disciplines, but to her, like many, the katas were all that truly mattered, the other events were just less refined forms of combat.
Elin moved in, trying to close on the circling girl and when Avigail’s left foot slipped a bit in the soft earth, she pounced. But Avigail was ready, having learned the ruse from her very own brother. She blocked Elin’s initial thrust, countered and scored a solid hit just above her opponent’s eyes. Dazed, Elin staggered and received another sharp blow on her right hip and then a solid kick to the chest which sent her sprawling onto the dusty arena floor. Three strikes in less than three seconds. The crowd erupted with cheers and applause as Tar Mesha moved between the pair and raised a hand with three fingers pointed toward the sky. The score was even now at seven a piece.
Elin climbed slowly to her feet and rubbed the back of her hand against her forehead where she’d been struck. It came away bloody and Elin felt a moment of panic that quickly turned to resolve. Without hesitation she moved after her fleet opponent, only now she advanced with a bit more caution. Avigail flashed in, hoping for another quick strike while her opponent was still dazed but Elin parried, shifted her feet and moved in close. Avigail backpedaled in an attempt to put some distance between her and Elin, but the girl easily stayed with her. Avigail slashed with her left, but Elin was too close and actually caught her arm and with a deft spin trapped it in close to her bigger body. Avigail countered with her right, but before it landed she felt a blinding pain in her right knee, then Elin skipped away taking only a glancing blow off of her shoulder.
Tar Mesha again moved between the two, this time raising each hand in the air. The score now eight to eight, but Avigail’s right leg was growing numb below the knee. Everyone in the stadium could see that she was limping and in a great deal of pain. She slowly retreated from Elin as Mesha once more slipped from between them. Elin was smiling slightly as she advanced on her hobbled opponent.
The Best of All Possible Worlds Page 20